


The Darkness You Can't Escape

by SharaLunison



Series: Kings of Darkness [2]
Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: M/M, Other Additional Tags to Be Added, Warnings May Change
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-03-14
Updated: 2017-03-14
Packaged: 2018-10-04 16:43:14
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Major Character Death, Underage
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,286
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10283417
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/SharaLunison/pseuds/SharaLunison
Summary: Many years after the Dark Lords Voldemort and Potter took over Wizarding Britain, their son Salazar Marvolo Riddle is set to begin his first year at Hogwarts.  Unbeknownst to him, Ginny Thomas nee Weasley has been training her youngest son, Merlin Arthur Thomas, to first befriend, then betray and kill the Riddle heir.Inside both boys is a darkness from which they cannot escape.This is the sequel to "The One True King".  Both fics are very, VERY loosely based around plot from The Lion King movies.  The resemblance ends there.





	

**Author's Note:**

> So, I'd gotten a fair number of requests for a sequel to my fic "The One True King", so the idea for it has been sitting at the back of my mind gaining momentum for the past several years. Full disclosure, I'm working on my Ph.D. so updates are probably going to be very infrequent as the mood and time strikes me. My priority is writing my dissertation. Which I should have been doing when this first chapter happened. Oops.
> 
> There's some intentional mystery involved in how Salazar Riddle came to exist. I will tell you that it's NOT Mpreg. And it will be revealed eventually. And it's relevant to the plot. :D
> 
> If you read this first chapter and enjoy it, I'd appreciate any comments left giving me your thoughts. This is the first thing I've written in literally years, because school has kept me busy. I'm anticipating that it will move somewhat slower than TOTK, though I intend to keep the same feel as the first half of the story by skipping the unimportant bits. It's a little harder with a cast of OCs.

**~Who Lives, Who Dies, Who Tells Your Story~**

Merlin Thomas glowered from the dark corner of his train compartment aboard the Hogwarts Express, watching out the window as his doting mother and father said farewell to all of his older siblings. He’d managed to escape with a single kiss on the cheek and a promise to write about his progress on “The Mission.” A sneer twisted his lips. Sod the mission, he was going to Hogwarts to learn enough magic to get away from his crazy ass family once and for all.

The compartment door slid open, and he instinctively turned to favor the intruder with a menacing snarl, only to freeze in shock and no little fear. Salazar Riddle stood in the doorway. The very last person he wanted to see. Echoes of his mother’s voice paraded through his head as he stared up at the slit-pupiled green eyes of the other boy. “Riddle is pure evil, Merlin. It’s your duty to defeat him. Let him get close, lull him into a false sense of security. Let him believe that you are his friend. And then strike.”

“Now Ginny,” his father would reply. “Let the boy be.” 

But as soon as the man was gone from the room, his mother’s diatribe would start up again: “Merlin, you are the seventh child of a seventh child. You hold untold magical power within you, waiting to be used. You will take back the Wizarding world from He-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named and his slut, Lord Potter. And you will start with their son.”

“Hello!” Salazar Riddle said cheerfully, interrupting Merlin’s train of thought. The idiot was holding out his hand for Merlin to shake. Merlin squeezed back against his seat, refusing to touch the other boy. Salazar’s confident smile faltered a bit. “Er…you’re a first year as well, aren’t you?”

Merlin darted his eyes back up to Riddle’s face, a stiff nod his only response.

Riddle let his hand drop, his mouth settling into a flat line of polite acknowledgement. “Everywhere else is full, so I hope you don’t mind me joining you here.”

Merlin didn’t respond, but Riddle sat in one of the seats opposite anyway. “Would you at least tell me your name?” Riddle asked. “I’m Salazar Riddle, but I suspect you already know that.”

“Merlin Thomas,” he responded shortly.

Riddle almost choked on his own spit in response. Merlin couldn’t help but roll his eyes at the reaction. _Thanks one hell of a lot, Mum._

“ _Merlin?_ You poor sod. I thought _I_ had it bad, being named after one of the Hogwarts founders. Did you know Merlin was a Slytherin?”

“He what?” The words escaped his mouth before he could think of holding them back.

“Yeah, that’s what they say,” Salazar responded. “My dads told me it’s part of the history of the house you learn when you first get sorted there.”

Merlin gaped. If his mother were dead, she’d be rolling in her grave right now. Merlin Thomas, the supposed Saviour of the Light, named after a bloody Slytherin.

“We should start a club,” Salazar continued, “For children afflicted with terrible names by their parents.”

Merlin couldn’t contain his amused snort. “Half of Wizarding Britain would need to be in it.”

Salazar grinned in response. Just then, the whistle of the train sounded long and hard and out the window they watched as the platform slowly seemed to move away from them.

“Here we go…” Salazar muttered under his breath.

Merlin took a moment to study the other boy. He seemed too cheerful, too ordinary, for who he was supposed to be. The only thing odd about him were the slit-pupils of his eyes. “Snake blood” his mother would have said with a hiss. Perhaps it was all a front? A ploy to get Merlin to trust him?

“I know what you’re thinking,” Salazar said, turning back to meet Merlin’s eyes. “How could this ordinary lump of an idiot possibly be the child of the Dark Lords? I’m afraid you’ll just have to wait and see.”

Grimacing, Merlin spat, “Like I care.” He settled back against the seat, closing his eyes. He was determined to ignore the other boy for the rest of the journey to Hogwarts. And for the next seven years, come to think of it.

**~History Has Its Eyes on You~**

“Riddle, Salazar!” the Deputy Headmistress, Professor McGonagall, called out his name in a clear, strong voice. She’d been doing this for decades, after all; she had practice.

Hands shaking slightly, Salazar walked up to the stool and sat, watching as the curious, often hateful faces of the children in the room beyond disappeared behind the hat’s wide brim.

“Well, well,” said a little voice in his ear. “So here you are, young Riddle. What an interesting creature you are.”

He attempted to slam up his Occlumency barriers, trying to shut the hat out of his thoughts and memories. “You have no right,” he hissed.

Occlumency did no good. Just as his father had told him, the hat existed beyond such forms of magic. It was ancient and mysterious, and protecting his mind would do little good to keep it out.

“I’m afraid it’s my duty, Salazar,” the hat murmured regretfully. “But I have never and will never share what I see in a pupil’s head, not even with the Headmaster or Mistress of the school. But you are a puzzling problem. A good head on your shoulders, plenty of bravery—you must, haven’t you? Dealing with spite and hatred day in and day out would require bravery of anyone. Quite loyal to your family as well, a good trait in Hufflepuff.”

“Put me in Slytherin!” Salazar hissed.

“Alas, child. Despite your name, that’s the absolute last place you belong. You’re cunning enough, to be sure, and your darkness would serve you well there. But I’m afraid you lack that most important of Slytherin traits: ambition. Don’t quite know what to do with your life, do you?”

How could he? His parents were running the entire bloody Wizarding government, and even the school he was now attending was run by one of his father’s followers, Snape. What was left for a child like him to accomplish in the face of that?

Not to mention, his parents were apparently going to live forever without ageing, so it wasn’t even like he could take over for them when they went.

“A pickle, to be sure. Now, where to put you…” the hat trailed off, and Salazar felt it’s consciousness poking around in his head, looking at certain memories, weighing the bits and pieces that made him who he was. It was immensely frustrating to witness, and be helpless to understand the process or do anything about it. “Understanding, hmmm?” the hat asked, almost absent-mindedly. “Better be RAVENCLAW!”

The last word was shouted to the entire room, and as the hat was removed from his head, Salazar heard a visceral gasp of horror come from the table of students clad in blue-trimmed black robes. The Slytherins, of course, looked vastly disappointed, while the rest of the room looked relieved. Salazar made eye contact with one of his childhood friends, Scorpio Malfoy, at the Slytherin table. The older boy gave him an encouraging wink.

He took his seat at the Ravenclaw table, managing to avoid a flinch when every single person seated near him inched away as much as possible. The sorting carried on until a new name caught his attention: his other good friend was up next.

“Snape, Veratrum!” A spindly girl with brilliant red hair and black eyes walked delicately up to the stool and sat down. On the professor’s dais above, Salazar saw Headmaster Snape looking on proudly as his daughter was sorted. He couldn’t help but smile at the sight—true to his origins as a Master of Potions, Snape had named his daughter after a flower, to honor her mother, Lily, but chose one that was deadly poison if ingested. She was going to be a great beauty when she was older, but he already knew that she was quite adept at hiding her bite until it was too late for her victim to escape.

“RAVENCLAW!” shouted the hat. Salazar straightened in surprise. He’d been sure she’d go to Slytherin. Veratrum walked quickly to the end of the Ravenclaw table to join him, sitting closer on the bench than anyone else had dared.

“Ravenclaw? Really, Vera?” he asked with no little incredulity.

She huffed, smacking the back of his head. “Father will be a little disappointed, but I couldn’t very well let you go it here alone, now could I?” she asked. She hugged his arm, looking away, “You’re my oldest and dearest friend, Sal.”

He briefly wondered how the conversation with the hat had gone for her, but then another name was called out that caught his attention. The boy from the train.

“Thomas, Merlin!” cried McGonagall.

Numerous snickers erupted around the room. Considering how often the wizard’s name was used as part of an epithet, Salazar couldn’t blame them. Still, he commiserated with the boy.

The hat settled over Merlin’s head, and utter silence swept the room for several long minutes. 

“ _Two_ hat stalls this year!” muttered one of the Ravenclaws nearby.

“What’s that mean?” Vera asked.

“Someone who takes longer than normal to be sorted,” the other student answered, glancing meaningfully at Salazar, and then looking away quickly when he realized he was being watched.

“I met him on train,” Salazar whispered to Vera. “I’m curious where he’ll end up. He didn’t seem like a typical Weasley, despite his parentage.”

The slash on the hat’s brim opened wide, declaring, “SLYTHERIN!” to the hall.

Gasps of shock and horror erupted from the Gryffindor table. Glancing over, Salazar noted there was a veritable _swarm_ of red-headed people at that table. Seriously, what was it with Weasley’s and breeding?

“They give redheads a bad name,” Vera sniffed, tossing her long hair over her shoulder.

“Perhaps that’s why he didn’t make it into Gryffindor with the rest,” Salazar joked. Unlike his siblings and cousins, poor Merlin had inherited his father’s darker looks. Jet black, tightly curled hair and a skin complexion the exact shade of chocolate milk. To Sal’s eyes he had an earthy, relaxed look about him, despite his clear discomfort in his own skin. Realizing that he was watching the other boy’s progress to the Slytherin table next door, Salazar ripped his eyes away and tried to focus on the rest of the sorting.

“You liiiiiiike him!” Vera sang softly, nudging him in the ribs.

“What? I do not!” he protested weakly.

“Liar. What _would_ your fathers say if they knew about this?”

He blanched. “That’s not funny, Vera.”

She smiled. “Relax. I won’t tell anyone. Besides, in case you forgot, we’re only _eleven_. Which doesn’t mean you can’t like someone, but it’s hardly going to be a _serious_ crush until we’re older, now is it?”

He let out the breath he’d been holding and glared at her. “I don’t _like_ him. I like him. He’s interesting.”

She rolled her eyes and nodded, going back to watching the sorting.

But Salazar’s eyes drifted to the Slytherin table to find Merlin again. The other boy looked absolutely miserable, but there was also something different now that he was a Slytherin. Almost…like he was carrying less weight on his shoulders. 

Sensing eyes on him, Merlin turned and caught Salazar’s gaze. Sal froze, arrested by the look in those piercing blue eyes. Pure, unmitigated hatred.

**~Just You Wait~**

The letter from his dads came at breakfast the next morning. Horrified gasps echoed down the table as the Ravenclaw students realized that the pure white owl of the Dark Lords was descending on their table with a letter clutched in her talons.

Sal rolled his eyes, raising an arm for Hedwig to alight on. She was the sweetest owl, really. It was completely nonsensical for people to be afraid of her just because of who she served. He took the letter from her beak and offered her a rasher of bacon in return. She delicately raised one clawed foot to hold it as she tore off a piece at a time. With a click of her beak, and an affectionate preen through his hair, she was off.

Turning his attention to the letter, Salazar opened it with a bit of trepidation. Sorting announcements went out from Hogwarts as soon as the ceremony was complete, so he knew they were already aware of his sorting into Ravenclaw. He didn’t think they would be disappointed, but they did sometimes surprise him…

_Dear son,_

_Your father and I couldn’t be prouder of you! If life had been different for us, we might have been in Ravenclaw ourselves, rather than Slytherin. We’re excited at the opportunities your sorting will present to you, and encourage you to enjoy your time at Hogwarts as much as possible._

_Did you forget anything at home? Please let us know if you require anything at all. I know we promised to refrain from visiting to make things easier for you, but we can’t help but worry about you, Sal. Write often to ease our minds, all right?_

_Severus told us about Vera’s sorting as well. Lily is over the moon about it, I hear. Your father and I are glad to know that you’ll have one loyal friend that you can trust for the next seven years._

_If anyone gives you trouble, let us know. We’ll take care of it._

_All my love,  
Dad_

Sal folded away the note, trying not to let his emotions show. His dad, Harry, was the more affectionate of his two parents. But he knew they both loved him dearly and would do anything for him. That was part of the problem, of course. Having two Dark Lords as your parents often meant that your playmates were punished or “disappeared” if they failed to meet certain standards. The one time a muggle child in their neighborhood had tried to bully him, the muggle _and_ his family were all locked in the dungeon for Death Eater target practice until they finally died. Sal had put the last one out of their misery himself.

It was for good reason that all of the children at Hogwarts were hateful or fearful of him. One word from him to his parents and people could _die_. Or worse, or so the rumors said.

Sighing, Sal applied himself to his breakfast. Vera was awake and eating next to him, but he knew better than to attempt speaking to her before she’d been up for at least an hour. Unfortunately, the other new first year Ravenclaws didn’t know that fact.

“Good morning, Veratrum!” chirped the pair of twins that had been sorted into Ravenclaw along with Sal. Lorcan and Lysander Scamander were Lovegood stock through and through. Both had the pale blond hair and dreamy blue eyes of their mother, Luna. Which was good, given the plainness of their father, Rolf. 

Vera’s eyes lifted to theirs, and Sal didn’t need to see her face to know they were getting the patented Snape death-glare. If they were smart, they’d stop there.

“Ooooh, she’s not a morning person, is she Lorcan?” Lysander asked his brother conversationally.

“Indeed she is not, dear Lysander,” the other answered. “I think the remedy is more coffee.”

Wisely, they said not another word but poured a steaming mug of the stuff for Vera, bowing down as they handed it to her. She accepted without a word, taking a few fortifying sips before returning to the meal on her plate. Sal spotted a slight smile on her lips and chuckled as he sipped his morning tea.

Professor Flitwick, the head of Ravenclaw house, came around at that moment to hand out schedules for all of the students. The first years were last, and he greeted them warmly as he handed round the slips of parchment. “Good morning, young new Ravenclaws! I’m your head of house, Filius Flitwick. Feel free to come to me with any questions you might have during your time here at Hogwarts. My office door is always open.”

Studying his timetable, Salazar saw that they had double potions with all the other houses first thing. Other than Merlin, he didn’t know any of the Slytherin students in his year, much less any of the Gryffindors or Hufflepuffs. Scorpius was the only Slytherin he had close ties to, because he was the son of Headmaster Snape’s godson, Draco.

“We’d better get going if we want to find it in time,” Sal murmured to Vera.

“Just let me finish my coffee,” she answered, gulping down the last dregs of the bitter liquid.

“We’ll come with you,” Lorcan and Lysander said in tandem.

Sal looked at them in surprise. They were mainly focused on Vera, but she was obviously friends with him. And they didn’t seem as afraid or hateful as he’d expect.

“Fine, but you have to put up with Sal, too,” she retorted.

The twins glanced at Sal curiously. “Fine by me,” one said. “And me,” said the other.

The other first years, one more boy and two girls whose names Sal didn’t know yet, ended up following them at a discreet distance. _They_ clearly didn’t want to become involved with the son of the Dark Lords.

The potions classroom was relatively easy to find. They only took one wrong turn as they entered the dungeon area of the castle. Sal’s group were some of the first to line up outside the classroom door, with Merlin and another Slytherin directly in front of them.

“Hello, Merlin,” Sal said, doing his best to be polite and cheerful without going too over the top. Vera’s elbow nudged him in the side and he noted her rolling eyes out of the corner of his vision. He elbowed her back, hard.

“Sod off, Riddle,” Merlin replied, not even looking at him. 

The Slytherin he was with looked between Merlin and Sal with wide eyes. “I don’t think you should…” the other boy started to say, before a look from Merlin shut him up.

“He’s not a god, I’ll talk to him any way I like,” Merlin told his friend firmly.

Surprisingly, Salazar found himself grinning foolishly. “Well, that’s refreshing,” he said into the shuttered silence of the hallway. “Please do continue talking to me any way you like, Merlin.”

It was clear the other students thought this was a threat, but Merlin looked at him appraisingly. After a long moment of studying each other, they both nodded slightly and turned away to talk to their fellows instead of each other. The atmosphere of the hallway instantly relaxed.

Moments later, Headmaster Snape slammed open the classroom door to admit them to the room. He was the first Headmaster in generations to continue teaching a class while running the school, but he managed it because for the first time in a long while, the Headmaster was prohibited from being involved in political matters, whether that be the Wizengamot or the Ministry itself. It meant the position of Headmaster was strictly focused on the wellbeing and education of the children at Hogwarts, and not on battles over funding or political support or wrangling the board of governors.

It was one of many changes wrought by Lord Minister Voldemort that Sal was particularly proud of.

They all filed into the classroom and started moving toward the potions stations, which were set up with one cauldron on a two-person desk, with stools for seating. Pairings naturally started to happen within house lines, until Snape entered the room and told them all to stand up again.

Sal glanced at Vera, sitting beside him, but she appeared as confused as he.

“Starting this year, any pair work in any of your courses will be done with someone from another house,” Snape said. There were a few groans of dismay, which he silenced with a single, stern glare. “As such, I have paired you with a partner that you will potentially work with for the remainder of the year, unless you both prove so incompetent that you would benefit from working with another, more advanced student.” The look he gave the class clearly said that if you ended up in such a situation, there was no real hope for you at all.

He waved his wand, and two columns of names appeared on the board behind him. Vera was paired with a mousey-looking Gryffindor named Rose Granger. Salazar was paired with Merlin. Their eyes met as they approached the shared desk, and then they both looked away to focus on the rest of the class as they found their seats. None of the pairings, Sal noticed, were between Gryffindor and Slytherin. That rivalry must still be going strong even in the current generation, which grew up under the Dark Lords’ rule.

“For today’s lesson, I am testing your preparedness. Assuming you have at least _glanced_ through your textbook, you should easily be able to follow the directions for a simple boil cure.” Another wave of Snape’s wand replaced the list of pairings with the instructions for the potion. “Begin.”

“I’ll get the ingredients from the cupboard,” Sal offered. “You can prepare the cauldron.” Merlin nodded and set about measuring the required amount of purified, distilled water that would form the base of the potion. 

Sal went to the supply cupboard, accidentally brushing shoulders with Vera’s partner, Rose. 

“I’m so sorry!” she gasped, clutching her armful of bottles and scuttling back to her table with his friend.

Frowning slightly at her reaction, Sal grabbed the bottles necessary for the boil cure, and turned to leave the cupboard. Only to see that everyone else had waited till he was done and out before crowding in to get what they needed. Idiots, he decided. They might run out of time because of their dawdling. And Uncle Severus was not a forgiving man.

Returning to his desk, he and Merlin easily divided up the tasks for preparing the ingredients and settled into a companionable rhythm. They were nearly the first ones done, but Vera and Rose managed to beat them by a few seconds.

“Ten points to Ravenclaw,” Snape said as they handed in their vials for grading. Neither Slytherin nor Gryffindor received points, despite their partners being from different houses. It was interesting, too, because Snape was known to favor Slytherin with points.

“We make a good team,” Sal offered to Merlin as they cleaned up their space.

“Yes,” Merlin answered, clearly attempting to remain short but failing slightly. 

Sal sensed an opening. “Would you like to work on the homework together later tonight? I’m curious what you think about the properties of the snake fangs, since you handled those today.”

Merlin stared at him for a long moment, and Sal sensed that he was struggling with himself. “Perhaps another time,” Merlin finally answered.

Nodding, Sal picked up his bag and went to meet Vera at the door.

Behind him, he missed the look of confusion and pain that passed across the Slytherin’s face as he left the room.

**~I Hope That You Burn~**

Outside the potions classroom, Merlin disappeared down an empty corridor and leaned against the cool stone wall in an attempt to calm his thoughts. The letter in his pocket crinkled, reminding him of his conundrum. His mother had sent it this morning.

 _How_ dare _you!? Do you have any idea what kind of shame you’ve brought to the family by your sorting? The first Weasley to_ ever _be sorted into Slytherin. If you weren’t our only hope, I would disown you!_

_You couldn’t even do the proper thing and end up in Ravenclaw with the Riddle whelp. At least then you could have made yourself useful. I expect a letter from you by the end of the week telling me all about how you’ve made yourself Riddle’s new best friend._

_Do_ not _disappoint me._

_Ginevra Thomas_

Merlin crushed the letter into a tight ball inside his fist, then opened his palm to stare at the paper. He hated her so much. He had no value except as a means of destroying the Dark Lords. What kind of life was that for a mother to expect of her youngest son? The anger and hurt built inside him, and he realized that his hand was growing hot. Staring at the paper, he watched as the edges began to blacken and then burn with a bright, searing hot blue flame. And yet it didn’t hurt him, but made him feel warm inside in a way he hadn’t experienced since he was a very young child.

The letter crumpled away into ashes, and he held his hand up to the torchlight, inspecting it for damage. Nothing. Not even a mark.

Sighing, Merlin slumped down against the wall and let his head rest against the wide, rough stones. The sodding truth of it all…was that he liked Salazar a lot. The boy wasn’t at all what he had been raised to expect. He suspected that if he tried, as his mother wanted, it would be nothing at all to become Salazar’s friend. And that, of course, was why he should never do such a thing. Merlin was no fool…he knew that his mother’s influence went deep with him, and it would be hard to avoid hurting the Riddle heir even if he did nothing intentionally.

It was safer for them both if Merlin just stayed away. Unfortunately, with this potions partner assignment and the other boy’s overtures…it didn’t seem like that would be possible.


End file.
